


Branded With Fire

by o_rcrist



Series: Tumblr Prompt [7]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nasir chooses to go to the mines, Agron finds he cannot let the Syrian let go without him. Even with him there though, Agron cannot stop Nasir from being wounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branded With Fire

Agron couldn’t believe it. They had rescued Naevia from the mines, but had paid a heavy price for doing so. Crixus and two of the other Gaul’s captured. Many more lay dead within the mines. He followed Spartacus, as they ran into the woods. Nasir was beside him, his sword in his hand. It was slick with Roman blood.

The Syrian had played his role impeccably. The guards had never suspected him of being a slave. Nasir had sharp eyes, and had seen much when he had accompanied his Dominus to the mines. He easily put it to use, with his foul language and sharp tongue. He’d made no move, when Mira had been taken by the guard, even though Agron knew it had pained him. When the guard had recognized Spartacus, Nasir had not hesitated to take the man down, and quickly silencing him forever, before giving them all away.

A small smile formed on his face. He was proud of the Syrian, for what he had done. Nasir eyes briefly met his, and a smile formed on his lips as well. A faint red appeared on his face, but Agron could not tell if it was from the exertion of running, or from his smile. He was inclined to believe it was the latter.

They ran for a long while, pausing occasionally to walk for short distances. They had escaped the mines, but they all knew the Romans would pursue them into the woods. They needed to put as much distance behind them as possible, and reach Vesuvius as quickly as their feet could carry them. There they would meet Donar, who had been charged with leading the remaining rebels to its shadow.

He had intended to lead the remaining rebels himself, with Nasir at his side. But when the Syrian had offered his aide in the mad plan, his heart had frozen. He could not let Nasir go, not without him. Without hesitation, he’d given his things to Donar, and given the charge to Donar. Nasir had given him a questioning look, but he had simply given Nasir a reassuring smile before following Spartacus to where the slavers cart stood.

Spartacus stopped suddenly, and Agron halted as well. He saw shadows in the distance, ones that were quickly approaching. He could just make out the weapons they carried. “Romans,” Spartacus quietly said. Agron tightened the grip on his sword, ready to attack, but Spartacus quickly stopped him. “We do not have enough men; we would do better to conceal ourselves from their sight.” Agron let out a low growl, but nodded in agreement.

They quickly hid behind a small hill, covering themselves in leaves to better conceal themselves. His eyes were on the forest in front of him, watching as the Romans broke through the trees. His eyes briefly flicked to Nasir. He was lying next to Mira, his sword in front of him. Mira was more than capable of defending herself, but Naevia was another matter. She had suffered in the mines, and was a shadow of her former self. Nasir was lying there, ready to protect them both.

Maybe the Gods did favor them today; the Romans were making their way past them, taking no notice of the rebels hiding only feet from them. He his was pounding in his chest, waiting for the last of them to past.

A shrill scream ran out, and he saw Naevia running from them. Mira quickly followed her as the Romans gave chase. He instantly jumped to his feet, and attacked the soldier closest to him, ending his life in less than a heartbeat. The rest quickly followed, as the gladiators left there hiding spots and attacked the Romans.

They were all soon sent to the afterlife, but their own numbers had dwindled as well. Liscus was insisting they see their fallen to higher ground, but they could hear more Romans approaching. With one last glance, they ran.

The sun was beginning to fade from the sky, as they found a place to rest for a few hours. Naevia was propped up between Nasir and Mira. He truly felt pity for her. She had been treated mercilessly since she had been cast out of the House of Batiatus. He had never had the chance to speak with her, but he had often seen her on the balcony, as the Domina watched the men train. He knew she had a kind heart, and he hated to see her so broken. Nasir and Mira gently eased her down to the ground, and she instantly fell to sleep, as Mira sat beside her.

Nasir once again met his gaze, and he offered the German a small smile, before turning once again to look at Naevia. It warmed his heart, how much the Syrian could care for others now, when only weeks before he cared for nobody but himself. Mira waved him off, motioning for him to take to sleep. He watched as Nasir gave Mira a small nod, and walked over to where the others rested.

Agron watched as the Syrian quickly fell to sleep on the ground, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand. Spartacus left to take up watch, and Agron yawned. He was exhausted, and he knew he needed to get some rest. He felt uneasy as he laid down, his eyes watching the woods. He knew they were being hunted, and felt like a caged animal, one waiting for slaughter.

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts from his mind. The only ones who would be slaughtered would be the Romans. He could hear Nasir breathing quietly beside him, and closed his eyes. The Syrians soft breathing somehow calmed his racing thoughts, and allowed himself to fall to sleep.

Loud cries woke him from his dreams of dark skin and eyes. The Romans were upon them. He did not think, he merely reacted as instinct took over, as it always did when he was taken by surprise. One soldier quickly met his end under Agrons sword, and another swiftly followed.

A cry tore through the woods, one that made his blood run cold. Time stopped as he turned, and saw Nasir, a Roman pulling his sword from the Syrians chest. _His_ Syrian. An anguished cry tore from his lips, and he bolted forward. He plunged his sword through the fucking Romans back, severing his spine and killing him. He withdrew it a second later, as Nasir cried out in pain again.

His sword fell from his hand, as he surged forward to catch Nasir as he fell, pressing his hands over Nasir’s. He could feel the blood already flowing from his wound. _No. Please by the gods no._ “Nasir,” his voice cracked as he spoke. Nasir did not hear him though; he was so trapped in the pain. Agron tried again, “Nasir.” The Syrian whimpered in his arms, but slowly those eyes rose to meet his. Brown eyes that were consumed by fear and pain.

All Agron wanted was to take that pain away, make it his own.

A hand was on his shoulder, and he looked up at its owner. Spartacus. “We must keep moving, if we are to reach Vesuvius.” Agron nodded, looking back to Nasir. He was still curled up in pain, unable to move. “Apologies,” he softly whispered, before pulling Nasir to his feet. The Syrian grimaced in pain, and leaned heavily on Agron. He wrapped an arm around Nasir’s slim waist, easily supporting his weight.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes screwed shut. Those harsh breaths prevented any noises of pain from escaping Nasir’s lips. Agron leaned down, and whispered into the Syrians ear, “Take a deep breath, and let it out. Some of your pain will leave you as you do.” Nasir weakly nodded, and he did as Agron said. Mira stood in front of them, Nasir’s sword in her hand. He took it, gently shifting Nasir as he did so, and quickly resheathed it.

His eyes were focused on Nasir, his hand pressing over the one Nasir held to his wound. “Agron.” He looked away from Nasir once more, and found Mira holding his sword out to him. He reluctantly took his hand from Nasir’s side, and took the sword in his hand. She slipped her arm around Nasir’s waist as well, and gently pulled his arm around her shoulders. With a nod, they slowly took a step forward. He could see Nasir grit his teeth, as he struggled to hide his pain.

Nasir wavered from sleep and his waking nightmare, occasionally murmuring words foreign in nature. His blood steadily flowed from his wound, despite Miras hand pressed against it. It dripped down his side, staining his vest and the top of his breeches. They needed to slow the flow of blood. Nasir had already lost so much, and he feared that the Syrian would soon be torn from this world. From him.

Night had long since fallen, when Liscus called out. Water. He and Mira briefly picked up there pace, until they were beside the small pool of water. He gently lowered Nasir to the ground, and as he did so, one of Nasir’s hands pressed against his wound once more. But his eyes remained closed. Agron took some water into his hands, and placed them to Nasir’s lips. “Drink,” he told him. The Syrians lips slowly parted, and Agron tipped his hand, so that the water would fall between them. He brushed a few stray hairs from Nasir’s sweaty brow, the Syrians skin burning beneath his. He quickly dipped his hand in the water again, and dripped it over his forehead. It would do little good, but it was all Agron could do.

“The boy fought well.” He glanced up at Liscus, liking neither his tone, nor the way he looked at Nasir. “Were this wine, to send him properly on his way.” He glared at Liscus.

“You speak of his as if already gone,” Mira asked. She to, did not like Liscus’ words.

“Then he speaks the truth.”

“Close fucking mouth,” Agron growled.

“We have settled this,” Spartacus told Liscus, but the Gaul would not hold his tongue.

“Come to reason. There is more blood upon the ground, than yet within him. Even if we carry him, he will not survive.” Agron growled at Liscus’ last words. Nasir _would_ survive, even if that meant he had to give his own to see it so.

“But he will leave a trail, one that the Romans shall follow.”

“We cannot just leave him,” Mira told the gladiator.

“No we cannot.”

Agron’s blood boiled and he reached for his sword, ready to run the Gaul through with it.

“You would take his life,” Spartacus asked. He glared at the Gaul as well.

“I would but sever dangling thread. It would be a kindness.”

Agron was on his feet, advancing toward Liscus, “You will not touch him.”

“Then do it yourself. Let him join Duro in the afterlife.” Agron only saw red, as he punched Liscus, his sword momentarily forgotten in his hand. The Gaul snatched his up from the ground, and glared at Agron. He would send Liscus to the fucking afterlife.

“Crixus,” a small voice said. He turned, looking for it source. Naevia. “He survived worse, against Theokoles. The boy to will live, if his wound is sealed with fire.” His eyes darted to Nasir, and he found brown ones looking at him, before they closed once more.

“Fire would call the Romans down upon us.”

“Then we must be quick, and be gone before they arrive.”

Spartacus was beside him, and with a firm hand upon his shoulder, pulled him away from Liscus. He gave the Gaul one last glare, before returning to Nasir’s side. He took the Syrians free hand in his, gently squeezing it. He could just feel Nasir squeeze back.

The two gladiators were soon gone, while Mira and Spartacus gathered wood for a fire. He pushed Nasir’s vest to the side, exposing his wound. He cursed as he saw the full extent of it. A dark line across his chest, with crimson blood surrounding it. He held his hand against it, desperately trying to prevent the life from leaving Nasir’s body. Mira and Spartacus built a small fire beside him, and Agron held the blade of his sword in the flames. The fire was small, but it would serve its purpose. Mira’s hands covered his, and he pulled his from under hers.

In the light of the fire, he could see the sweat that covered Nasir. His dark skin was slowly draining of color, and he could not tell if Nasir was asleep or unconscious. Part of him hoped he was unconscious, so that he would not feel the searing pain, when Agron placed the blade to his chest.

He looked at Naevia, who kneeled in front of Nasir, “Find something for him clutch between teeth.” She nodded, and quickly got to her feet to do so.

“When it is done, we must smother fire and move quickly,” Spartacus said quietly. Agron looked up at the Thracian. The man’s eyes were firmly fixed on the forest around them, briefly meeting Agron’s. Agron nodded, “It will be done.”

He looked at his sword. The flames had heated the metal, the blade a bright red. A small noise drew his eyes back to Nasir. “What are you doing,” the Syrians voice was weak, and strained. Agron gave him a small smile, “We must close your wound.”

Nasir’s eyes flicked to the brand on his arm, and to the sword he held in the fire. “I’m to be branded with fire. As a true gladiator would.” Through the Syrians pain, he could just hear the pride at being branded as such.

“You’ve earned your place amongst the Brotherhood,” Agron told Nasir, and he truly meant it. Nasir had risked his life multiple times, earned the trust and respect of everyone within the rebellion, even now he fought to stay alive, against a wound that would have killed greater men.

He heard rustling behind him, and Naevia knelt back down beside Nasir. “Hold him down.” Mira placed her hands on his shoulders, while Naevia put a small branch beneath his teeth, before taking his hands in hers. Nasir was breathing faster, his eyes on the sword as Agron withdrew it from the fire.

“Do not cry out,” he told Nasir. Those brown eyes left the sword he held, and met his. He hated himself for what he had to do next. With one swift motion, he placed it against the sensitive flesh. Nasir whimpered as the sword made contact with his skin, but he swallowed any other noises of pain. His Syrian was strong; many a gladiator had not been able to contain his cries of pain. In the few seconds he held the sword to Nasir’s skin, those brown eyes never left his.

He could see Nasir fighting the pain, fighting to stay conscious. The Syrian soon succumbed to it though, as the pain overtook him. He removed the sword a moment later, and Mira moved to put out the fire. He cupped Nasir’s face in his hand. It seemed so large against the smaller man’s face.

His eyes darted down to where he had sealed Nasir’s wound. Part of him was relieved to find it no longer bleeding, while another part of him hated himself, for having caused Nasir so much pain. _It had to be done,_ he told himself, but it did little to ease his guilt.

He heard shouts in the distance. Romans.

He instantly scooped Nasir up into his arms, while Mira picked up his sword. They fled the small pond, hoping to outrun the soldiers. Soon they could no longer hear the soldiers, and the forest around them was quiet. They slowed down, listening for a noise that would tell them the Romans were once again close. A twig snapped not far from them, and they all froze. He tightened his arms around Nasir, ready to run.

But it was not a Roman who appeared, but Liscus. Fautis had fallen to the Romans.

Liscus glanced at Nasir, anger in his eyes. If the Gaul dared to open his mouth, and voice the blame he saw in that glance, he would join Fautis in the afterlife.

Spartacus saw the look as well. “We must keep moving, before the Romans find us once more.” Liscus nodded in agreement, but not without one final glare at Nasir.

They continued on, and Agron dared to think they had escaped the Romans. They had not seen them in a long while, when Liscus stopped, and looked up to the trees. His eyes to traveled up, and beheld a gruesome sight. Fautis, hanging from the trees, blood dripping down his body.

The Romans were still near, that much they all knew. They started to turn back, but it was too late. The Romans had seen them, he could hear them coming through the trees. He quickly lowered Nasir to the ground; Mira and Naevia standing beside the Syrian, knives clutched in hand.

Agrons grip on his sword was tight; his eyes only saw red, as they burst through the trees. These soldiers were the reason Nasir was on the brink of death, and he would send them all to the fucking afterlife. They would learn that they were no match for gladiators.

Soon they had all fallen beneath their swords, but their numbers to dwindled. Liscus had met his end under the Romans sword. As much as he disliked the Gaul for his words against Nasir, he still did not wish to see a brother fall to the hands of the Romans.

He sighed, and turned back to Nasir. His eyes remained closed, as he picked him up from the ground. The Syrians body seemed unnaturally light in his arms, and his heart skipped a beat, fearing Nasir had left this world. But no, he could just feel Nasir’s breath against his chest, his skin hot against his own.

They saw no trace of the Romans for the rest of the night, and as dawn broke, there came a welcome sight. Vesuvius. Nasir shifted in his arms slightly, a quiet groan escaping his lips. “We shall soon be at the mountain,” he softly reassured him. The nod Nasir gave him was almost imperceptible, but it brought a small smile to Agrons face.

Spartacus was a ways ahead of them, and he was waving them forward. Agron followed behind Mira and Naevia, as they came to join him. He could see others approaching through the morning mist. He briefly feared it was the Romans, but he quickly recognized the men running through the trees towards them. They had found Donar, and the rest of the rebels. Donar grinned as he approached, but it quickly left his face, as his eyes saw Nasir in Agrons arms.

“What happened,” the gladiator asked.

“The Romans pursued us through the woods as we fled the mines,” Spartacus quickly explained.

“Nasir was wounded, defending Naevia and I,” Mira added.

Donar nodded, “the boy had truly earned his place amongst us.” Nasir shifted once again in his arms, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“He has more than earned the mark he now bears,” Agron said. Donar smiled, and nodded in agreement.

“Let us continue on to Vesuvius, and find a place to make camp,” Spartacus ordered. Donar nodded, turning to deliver the orders to the others.

Agron looked away from the rebels, and back to the small man in his arms. Slowly Nasir’s eyes opened to meet his, a smile taking his face. Agron grinned back at him, “Fall to sleep, we are safe.”

Nasir nodded, closing his dark eyes.  “I am always safe, when I am with you.”

 


End file.
